


Polyjuice Potion

by alyblack



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Angst, BDSM, Being Someone Else, Blow Jobs, Closeted Character, Corporal Punishment, Draco Malfoy Being an Asshole, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Gay Sex, M/M, Malfoy Doesn't Like To Kiss, Polyjuice Potion, Polyjuiced Prostitute, Power Play, Prostitution, Secrets, Sexual Frustration, Sexual Tension, Skeletons In The Closet, Time Is Up, Unhappy Draco, Unrequited Lust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-31
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-10-13 06:11:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10507893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alyblack/pseuds/alyblack
Summary: Logically, he knew the person speaking to him was Lita. It was just Lita wearing a different body. He knew that. Logically. There was something else habiting his body that didn’t quite understand that. It was feral and dark and just wanted to dive into a couple of hours of oblivion; of fake freedom and complete satisfaction.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is an idea that just hit me today and I had to write it. It isn't as long as I would've liked, but I liked it overall.  
> Heads up; the themes are a little dark and heavy. Be aware. 
> 
> xoxoxo

The woman on the bed looked an awful lot like Astoria. It was part of the reason she was the only one he trusted with his deepest, darkest secret. At least once a month he would be crawling back to her bed, begging for an itch he needed to have scratched. The house in muggle London was filled to the brink with the best of everything money could buy: food, drinks, influence and sex.  He had discovered the place when he was thirteen, led by his father in one of the many proofs of his masculinity he had provided over the years.

Now the war was over, his father was dead and he was married to the perfect woman with a child on the way. None of it had been enough to drown once and for all the desires that lived within the furthest parts of his subconscious. Every time he thought he was getting over it, he was flooded with thoughts that refused to go away. It affected his marriage, his work and his overall sanity.

He wasn’t tormented by who he was or the things he wanted, but there were certain expectations that needed to be fulfilled while his mother was still alive. So, he got by. Some days were harder than others. When it got to be too much, that’s when he came back to Lita.  She was a remarkable young woman, he had to give her that. Beyond her looks and the kind of service she provided to the perverts and the frustrated, she was kind, attentive and, for some reason, seemed to truly care for his happiness. Draco knew she was in love with him and yet, he kept coming back. Torturing a nice girl with affections that weren’t for her.

Despite the selfishness of his actions, every single time he visited her, she would be expecting him with a smile on her face and a pleased glow around her eyes. It was as if the day only truly began after he walked in the room. He was fond of her, but not enough to stop himself from taking and taking and taking without ever giving something back.

Once he walked through the wooden door of her room, she looked up from the book laying in front of her in the bed to welcome him. She had her long curls neatly stacked on a bum sitting at the top of her head, using nothing but a red gown with golden ornaments around the edges of the hands and cleavage.

“Good evening, M. How are you?”

Usually, in places such as that, it was common courtesy to avoid using people’s names. Even though, Draco doubted there was a single person in there that night, who didn’t know who he was. As a matter of fact, walking around the halls, he could recognize several prominent faces in politics, art, education and tradition. In there, it was as if everyone was safely hidden at plain sight.

“I am good. Is everything ready?”

He had to say it, using such services was not a cheap ordeal. At least, not how he liked it anyway. The average companionship in a place as high grounded as this one, would already be a small fortune, for someone with his preferences, he would leave behind a significant part of his patrimony in every visit. He deemed worth it, but could only speculate as to how long he would be able to afford it.

“Of course. Did you bring it?”

She sat up and looked at him in contemplation. Fixing her hair briefly and bringing a feather pillow to her lap. Her smile was still present, although he figured this was the part she least enjoyed during their meetings. He only shook his head in affirmation, before turning to the hair dresser where the flask rested undisturbed.

“This is getting harder and harder to get.”

“Let’s not waste it, then. I know you don’t like to watch. You can go wash up while I finish here.”

He nodded, removing his jacket and placing it on the chair next to the bathroom door. He barely heard Lita approaching before she had her hands on his tie. Her fingers worked fast, untying it and throwing it together with the rest of his clothes. He knew it before she had finished deciding to do it; her lips searched for his fleetingly, before he gently pushed her aside.

“I wished you could want me, Draco”.

There was only silence coming from him, as he walked to the bathroom to wait for her to be done. As usual, the pit in his stomach was starting to form, making him nervous and heavy with an old sense of guilt. Often, he would feel dirty and disgusting after his encounters with Lita. Aside the bad ocean of feelings, there was a sparkle of excitement burning down his fingertips. The noises coming from the next room told everything he needed to know. It was time. With one last lingering look to his own reflection, he walked back to the bedroom.

“How do I look?”

Logically, he knew the person speaking to him was Lita. It was just Lita wearing a different body. He knew that. Logically. There was something else habiting his body that didn’t quite understand that. It was feral and dark and just wanted to dive into a couple of hours of oblivion; of fake freedom and complete satisfaction. It was why he was there, why he kept coming back, why he was willing to burn down all his money to get it. He needed the fantasy, so he could deal with his reality.

There were rules, of course. Lita knew them all by heart, but she would slip occasionally. He avoided kissing as much as he could, not only Lita and not only when she was like that, but in life in general. She would never call him Draco or M during the sessions, just Malfoy. If his cravings were a book, she would be the one who wrote it.

Slowly, he started to fall back to the relaxation of his created paradise and the fantasy started to mix with what was real. His mind was on the brink of a docile status, where there was only him and what he wanted. Next time he opened his eyes, it didn’t matter he was facing a meatsuit, or that there as a nice girl who loved him inside, there was only Harry Potter standing in front of him.

“Malfoy?”

“Potter…”

“Shh. Be quiet. Sit on the bed for me, yeah?”

Draco complied within a heartbeat. There were rules. He sat on the mattress, magically transfigurated to look like a bigger version of Hogwarts’ beds and waited while Potter walked towards him. Every time was different, but they were all intense. He couldn’t shake the overwhelming wave of emotional baggage that came with the release of the sexual component.

“Put your hands behind your back. I will tie you up.”

When the strains of cloth involved his wrists, there was nothing but peace. His mind was quiet and he could only search in himself to feel excitement. Big hands finished removing his shirt, leaving him sitting across the bed with his hands restricted and his chest starting to accumulate drops of sweat. The tension was building up fast, manifesting itself in a growing erection that led to a short fall of tears. Potter noticed, moving to distract him of the surging worries with light kisses alongside his jawline and neck.

“I…”

“I didn’t say you could speak, Malfoy.”

“’M sorry.”                  

“It’s okay. One can only hope you are competent enough to follow simple common sense.”

Without warning, Draco felt a weight latching itself on his lap, burning everything on its path, from the catch in his throat to the tip of his fingers. He looked up to green eyes staring him back, rebel hair following down and hiding the scar he knew was there. Contradicting his usual mode, he harvested himself up to steal a kiss.

He didn’t kiss much and there was a reason for it. He never quite mastered the arts, but Potter didn’t seem to mind it much. He also didn’t seem to be expecting the change of heart, being a treat on itself the breathy moan he let out. His hands grasped the waves of blonde hair, pulling their mouths closer together and moving himself rapidly on his lap.

“Draco.”

The moan sounded foreign to his ears. It was the first crack on the fantasy. It made him pause, it broke the spell before he had a chance to hold it tighter.

“Don’t call me that.”

He registered the weight on his lap disappearing, before Potter moved to the cabinet to retrieve a silver box. Draco’s stomach dropped further down at the sight, feeling the pool of excitement getting bigger and bigger. He wouldn’t move until told to, but his knees were itching to assume his position and let someone else take full charge of his life. It relieved the pressure and he couldn’t wait.

“Get to position. Facing the wall.”

He was bent over the pillows, his back arched in Potter’s direction, the dimples above his hips were shinning with droplets of water and his hands were hoisted in the hanger on the metal bars of the bed. He heard the box being opened and he heard the whip hurtle before he felt it in his skin.

Nobody would ever understand what it felt like. His whole being was focused on the burning sensation escalating and the ultimate trust that he would not be hurt. The lack of power or will made him feel safe and free. It was like leaving the weight of the world outside. Every time the whip connected with his back, he let out a deep moan, feeling the pain, acknowledging it and welcoming it all the same.

Potter punished him two more times before putting the whip aside and grabbing the brown bottle from the box. He coated his hands with the cool liquid and spread it across the bruised skin on his back, soothing to the lasting ache.

“Will you be quiet for me now, Malfoy? Come down here and kneel next to me, I want to take a good look at you.”

He obeyed without saying another word, doing his very best to comply with the requests and please Harry. Moving slower than he would’ve liked, he took his place by the brunette’s feet, kneeling on the rug and trying to even out his breaths. There was heat eradiating from the body next to his and the room was ricked with the smell of sweat and a fainting odor of the polyjuice potion.

“I wished you were this pliant back in school, Malfoy. The fun we could’ve had.”

Potter moved his fingers through Draco’s hair, fixing his posture with a light pull of his head and praising him for his effort with a soft smile. He got up once more, removing the Gryffindor gown he was wearing and walking towards the other side of the bed. He laid down, petting the empty space of the mattress next to him.

Once they were laying side by side, Draco turned to look at the male body, his mind thinking back at his pregnant wife and how different it felt. He rarely took the time to question or mourn his lot in life, preferring to live through the bad parts, waiting for the good ones, but when he was inside that very room, roughly once a month, he couldn’t stop to wonder if there was another story where he could’ve had this. Where he could’ve been happy.

“You can kiss me again if you want.”

He heard Potter say. He wanted to scoff. As it was his natural reaction to most of the words that came out of the real Harry’s mouth. However, as he was starting to feel himself slip from the fantasy again, he went for it. He let himself be kissed and devoured into tongue and saliva and an occasional clash of teeth. Anyone else and the noise would’ve made him sick to his stomach.

“Tell me what you want, Malfoy.”

“Just fuck me already and get this over with.”

The words were more a plea than a demand; he didn’t want it to end, but he couldn’t deal with the building up any longer.

“No.”

“What?”

Suddenly he felt scared. The situation was starting to go in a different direction than what was consider normal for them; the submission usually led to Potter fucking him against the mattress until he could do nothing but scream.

“I want you to top today.”

The air escaped his lungs when he heard the request. Potter’s body was still above him, so close he could feel his breath hitting him gently in the face every time he spoke. There was no stopping his body from tensing and retrieving; he felt Potter lowing himself to lick his stomach all the way down, starting to work on opening his pants and persuade him into the novelty.

The muscles in his abdomen were tight upon the attention; his legs kept flexing around the body accommodating itself between them without him meaning for them to. He didn’t like this part as much as he probably should, but it was part of the rules.

“I won’t do it.”

The tone came out a little shakier than he wanted, but he hoped it would deliver the same hardness. There wasn’t space in his life for a reality where he fucked Harry Potter; there was absolutely no coming back from it, it would ruin him, it would ruin everything.

“Let’s see about that.”

Draco didn’t know if the real Harry Potter would be this talented in making him squirm around and beg, but he would like to think that he would manage. Draco’s Potter, though, he seemed and acted as if he was especially shaped to please him, to the minute he started to the minute he stopped, there was nobody else in the world but them. He had a clever mouth and habile fingers, sucking down and licking him up thoroughly, bringing him to the brink and pulling him back repeatedly.

“Please…”

The more he begged, the more Harry slowed down. Waiting for him to calm down so he could start teasing him again. Using the skin of his cock and legs as his own personal canvas, painting nothing but Draco’s downfall. Seven minutes in and there was only panting and a wet sound of sucking, all adding up to his inevitable breaking point. His cries filled up the room and as the time passed by his hips acquired a life of its own, not trusting up into the pleasure only by the heavy grip of Potter’s fingers on his hips. It was almost enough, but not quite.

“I won’t let you come. Not unless you changed your mind, of course.”

“No… Please… I can’t.”

He was starting to get desperate. Not only because of the stimulation that just wasn’t enough, but also caused by the adding pressure to go past his comfort zone. He could feel his fingers curl repeatedly, as he shook his head from one side to the other, begging and tearing up at the concentrated attention to his groin that wasn’t leading anywhere.

“Please, Harry, I need it.”

Malfoy never referred to him as Harry, or at least he tried his best not to. It made him consider that he was breaking the rules, pushing too hard. Potter took a deep breath before taking him all down his throat and slipping his finger inside him, searching cautiously to the condensed bundle of nerves. Draco shook, feeling a hot shiver fall down his limbs.

“Fuck. Please. Just… Something… Anything.”

The focus changed from the blowjob to the finger probing inside and caressing his prostate gently. He knew just how to find it and how Draco liked it to be touched. Not too hard, just the right amount of pressure, in circles, not up and down.

“It’s okay. You can come for me. Come on, Malfoy. I want to taste you.”

Draco wasn’t sure if it was the sucking that took him off guard, or the delicious torture of clever fingers or just the dirty words dripping arousal to his head, but he felt his orgasm ripping through his limbs, so hard he could feel it in his bones. For a second, the pleasure made him unaware of the movements around him, lasting a little longer than usual. When he finally came down from the high and looked around, Potter was nowhere to be seen.

Looking to the clock, he understood why; time was up. It felt as if he had been washed down with a bucket of ice cold water. If the orgasm wasn’t enough to shatter the glass window shielding his illusion, this certainly was. Lita emerged from the bathroom a couple of minutes later.

“I am sorry, I must’ve miscalculated the time. It wasn’t supposed to end like that.”

“It’s fine.”

She had returned to her original figure, beautiful and feminine and, to him, bitter. Looking at her after was hard. He had taken something pretty and good and had corrupted into his fantasies. Once more.

“Lita?”

“Yes, Draco?”

“I won’t top. Okay?”

“Yeah. Okay.”

He was turning to leave, when he heard her calling him back.

“When will I see you again?”

“I don’t know.”

He didn’t stay to chat any longer, as he usually would. It wasn’t common for him to rush off like that after they were done, but something had been different this time. He felt tired and his mind was restless. Despite his best efforts, the itch was still there and he didn’t know what to do with himself. Leaving a half-naked Lita behind, he ran down the stairs and apparated back to the Manor. He was late for dinner.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
